


Heaven, It Feels Like That

by less_than_wholesome



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bio-Dad!Tony AU, Choking, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Face-Fucking, Forced Deepthroat, Hard Dubcon, Incest, M/M, Smut, Somnophilia, blowjob
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-26 04:29:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16674535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/less_than_wholesome/pseuds/less_than_wholesome
Summary: Tony has a decision to make - one that will change the course of his life.And no matter what he chooses, it'll tear his family apart.





	Heaven, It Feels Like That

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a moodboard on Tumblr created by a user named Sugarboy-pete. Unfortunately, with the recent purge of nsfw blogs on Tumblr, their blog didn't survive.
> 
> **READ ALL TAGS BEFORE CONTINUING!!**
> 
> This is a fic depicting a sexual relationship between Tony Stark and Peter Parker where Tony is Peter's biological father.
> 
> Peter is 17 at the start of this fic, but I've it tagged as Underage for future chapters.
> 
> Some tags may be added or removed as this fic progresses. Your Milage May Vary!

Tony, dressed to impress for his business trip, sits gently at the head of the bed and watches Peter sleep for a bit before trying to wake him up to say goodbye. He shushes him when Peter starts to groan in protest of waking; softly whispering about how he has to go and how long he’ll be gone, until the kid grunts out a curt “Uh-uh” and buries his face between his father’s thigh and the bed while wrapping his arm around Tony’s knee. 

That being too much for Tony to resist, he guides his boy’s head into his lap; petting his hair and cheek, and thumbing at those soft, pink lips.

And even in the throes of sleep, Peter responds perfectly to the thumb on his lips, darting his tongue out in little kitten licks; trying to coax the digit in. 

“You present a compelling argument, honey, but I have to leave in 15 minutes or your mother will kill me, so let’s make this quick, yeah?”

Switching hands to unfasten his slacks, he presses into the corner of Peter’s mouth; gently encouraging him to open up as the other hand feeds his half-hard cock to his son. He has to do most of the work with Peter still pretty much passed out, but that’s part of the fun for him. Even the light grazing of teeth every now and then isn’t enough to hold Tony back and soon enough, his cock is as hard it can get.

With the current angle of entry, he’s only getting about a third of his dick wet - stretching those plump lips thin and rhythmically distending his son’s cheek - so he gets a good hold of Peter’s soft, sleep-ruffled hair and shifts them both so he’s partially kneeling on the edge of the bed and his son is propped up by a combination of the pillows and his thigh, allowing for about another third in.

One thrust goes a little too deep and presses against the back of Peter’s throat, which jolts the kid awake, gagging and struggling, but Tony holds on, not letting him off his cock. And when his son tries to buck back and moan in protest, Tony shoves his hips forward roughly - the complete opposite of the soft demeanor he acted on while Peter was asleep - pushing past the resistance of his boy’s tongue, to slip down into the tight, convulsing channel of his throat.

Tony enjoys the fight Peter puts up; he has to actually work to keep his son in place and it thrills something dark and primal in him. When the boy finally calms his struggling and just lets Tony have his way, Tony looks down to take in Peter’s red face and how tears and drool are steadily flowing as he stays deep.

It’s not until those doe-brown eyes start to roll back that Tony pulls out - not for long, mind you, just long enough for the kid to take a breath, then he’s pushing back in; grinding his son’s nose into his pubic hair before pulling out again. He keeps this pattern up, gradually reducing the time he stays in until he’s fucking his son’s throat in earnest and revels in the resulting choked-out gagging noises and aborted retches.

It’s only natural that once he makes it to this point, he doesn’t last much longer. His thrusts get rougher and it takes both hands to hold the boy’s head in place as he picks up speed. There are a couple full body retches from Peter that should be cause for concern if they didn’t feel so fucking amazing for Tony’s cock, but, thankfully, his son holds out and takes it like a champ. That is, until Tony shoves in as deep as he can and holds Peter down while he cums down his throat and in a moment of total self-indulgence, he reaches under to press firmly against the distinct bulge of his son’s throat where his cock is nestled - that renews the struggling, weak enough that Tony really only needs one hand, but still has to exert a decent bit of effort to keep the kid down.

Peter must catch a second wind because he manages to pull away a bit, only to have his effort rewarded with another aborted retch that results in cum bubbling out his nose. 

Tony takes pity on him after that and pulls him off, shooting across the boy’s face then milking himself for every last drop as he smears it into his son’s cheek with the head of his cock. 

When he’s finally finished, he pulls Peter’s head back by his hair to get a good look. The kid looks fucked out - his cheeks and lips bright red from the rough treatment, eyes puffy and red from the tears that have mixed with his drool and Tony’s cum to make a picture of pure sin - and eager for more, if the tent in the covers is any indication.

Tony would love nothing more than to continue this, maybe even going so far as to finally cross the line and actually fuck his son’s sweet ass properly, but, before he can even really entertain the indecision, his phone goes off with his wife’s ringtone. Tony doesn’t answer it right away, looking to Peter; waiting.

Peter rubs his throat, wincing a bit as he tries to clear it, before meeting his father’s eyes again.

“You should probably answer that, Dad. You know how Mom gets when you don’t answer her calls.”

His throat is raspy and it clearly hurts him talk. Tony feels a bit guilty as he answers his phone, tucking himself away and smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt and slacks. He tunes out his wife’s nagging about punctuality as he helps his son up, out of bed, and follows him into the bathroom. 

They stay pressed close despite the extravagant size of the bathroom, Peter’s ass aligned perfectly with his groin as he prepares a washcloth and cleans up the mess he made.

Their eyes stay locked in the mirror the entire time.

Tony reaches up and touches the same place as before on Peter’s neck; his son raising his chin to give him better access. The explicit permission to touch after he had been so rough earlier stirs up a whirlwind of emotions and dark desires that has Tony seriously tempted to stay.

“Maybe I shouldn’t go.”

He didn’t mean to say it out loud, it just slipped out. 

On the phone, Pepper is practically screeching in fury, so loud that when he sets the phone beside the sink, without speakerphone engaged, he can still hear her. 

But he wasn’t talking to her when he’d said it. 

Peter is watching him with a curious expression in the mirror. Tony wants to look at him properly, so he urges Peter to turn around by his hips. They are almost nose to nose now. Not touching, though - Tony is hesitant to cross this line of intimacy with his son. 

Even with all that they’ve done up until now, they had maintained certain boundaries.

Never when Pepper was home.

No penetrative anal sex.

No kissing.

They stay like this for almost a minute until his phone lighting up to indicate the end of the call draws his attention and the reality of what he was about to do hits him like the moon crashing into the planet. 

He lets his hands fall from his son's hips and picks up his phone - thankful for the excuse to avoid looking at the kid directly under the guise of deciding whether to call Pepper back or not.

In his peripheral vision, he catches Peter silent sigh as he starts to pull away, shaking his head a little.

“Mom’s going to kill you, you know.”

His voice is still wrecked, but there’s an underlying hurt there that Tony knows he only just created, but he can't bring himself to acknowledge it so he jumps on the out provided to him.

“It's not like this is the first time I've done this. As long as I still show up, she'll get over it.”

There's a brief moment of silence between them to process his decision, before he's turning towards the door to beat a hasty retreat.

“Dad! Wait.” 

Tony stops even though he really doesn't want to have this conversation right now, but he definitely owes it to his son after leading him on just a second ago. Peter pushes up against his back, mirroring their previous position - except his hands go south.

There's a small voice in the back of his mind that's relieved because if Peter is the one to cross the line, it wouldn't be Tony's fault. As if he could eat his cake and the calories would go straight to someone else's ass. Peter's ass, specifically. 

It really is a lovely ass. The boy gets it honest. 

He needs to derail that train of thought before it leaves the station or he really will stay. It's not like his son is making it easier on him with the way those hands are smoothing down his torso, then his thighs, and finally to the fly of his pants. 

Despite his age, Tony's dick is making valiant progress to getting hard again as deft fingers undo the fastens…. Only to redo them almost immediately. 

“You missed one.”

Well now he's disappointed in both of them.

He turns back to see his son smiling as if everything were normal, and before Tony can say anything, Peter cuffs him on the arm.

“Have fun in Switzerland, Dad.”

Tony nods, floundering for once in his life, because there's so much he wants to say. 

To explain himself.

To apologize again.

He meets his son's gaze dead on and wants nothing more than to promise him the world.

“Love you, kiddo.”

It's the best he can offer.


End file.
